Paradigm Shift
by jaedyn tyler
Summary: A discovery of mutual secrets leads to a new understanding between the Golden Boy and the Slytherin Prince- an understanding that could heal the rift between the Dark & Light sides. The only question is, will they survive long enough to make a difference?
1. Home for the Summer

**A/N-** Ever since I was introduced to the idea of Harry being abused by the Dursleys instead of just neglected, I've toyed with the idea of Petunia and/or Dudley not knowing, then finding out, and what their reaction might be. But the real inspiration for the first few chapters comes from Constant Vigilance's Punished. She's got some stories here of under the penname VCCV, but you can find all of her stories on under the penname Constant Vigilance. All of her stuff is good: you'll enjoy the 10 sentence drabbles and you'll love the longer or multi-chaptered fics. Again, this is an awesome author. She is a must read.

**Warnings-** this will contain violence, rape, & abuse. I try not to get too graphic, but that may not always happen. You have been warned. Also, I try to keep everyone in character, but I suck at it on some characters, and am purposefully taking others out of their comfort zone. Sorry if it gets really bad. I'm trying!

**Relationships-** established HG/RW, and if I stick either Harry or Draco in a relationship, they'll be together (although I sincerely doubt the fic will go that way and if it does it'll be well near the end of the fic).

Also, this is mostly OoTP compliant. I don't know if Sirius is dead yet or not, it'll depend on where this goes later in the story, and Lucius Malfoy did not go to Azkaban. Don't ask me how he weaseled his way out of that one 'cause I have no clue; he just did.

**Disclaimer-** J.K. Rowling owns everything. I'm just playing on her playground.

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"We'll see you later this summer, mate. Try not to let the Dursleys get you too down." Ron said as he clapped Harry on the back.

Harry smiled, "Yeah, I'll see you later. Bye."

Harry held the smile long enough for Ron to get out of sight, then dropped it with a sigh. _Once more into the fire. Please let the Headmaster let me go to the Weasleys soon._ Closing his eyes briefly, Harry straightened his shoulders and gathered what was left of his courage, then pushed his trolly through the barrier between Platform 9 ¾ and the muggle world. Harry got maybe ten steps before he felt his stomach plummet. Vernon was already waiting for him, and he did _not_ look happy. _Oh, _shit_, this is not good_. Gripping the handle of his trolly so tightly his knuckles turned white, Harry moved towards his uncle.

"Where the hell have you been, boy? I've been waiting ten minutes for you to get your worthless arse out here!"

_Oh, lovely. He bitches about ten minutes when he's left me sitting here for over an hour? Fat bastard._ Harry didn't let his thoughts show in his expression and bowed his head. "I'm sorry, Uncle Vernon. The train only just now got in."

Vernon growled and grabbed Harry by the back of the neck when he pulled level with him, and began shoving him towards the exit. "Not yet, but you will be." It was said low enough that Harry was the only one who heard him. He barely repressed the shudder.

Within ten minutes they had Harry's things in the car and were headed for Number 4 Privet Drive. Feeling like a prisoner on death row being lead to the execution chamber, Harry sent up another prayer that Dumbledore would get him out of here soon.

Later that night Harry was sitting on his bed, working on his Transfiguration homework. He had gotten home and been surprised when Vernon had allowed him to take his homework out to work on over summer before locking up the rest of his things, but he supposed that Professor Dumbledore had said something to the Dursleys. Whatever had caused the change in routine, Harry was grateful for it; at least now he would have something to do during the hours he was locked in his room. Dinner had gone the same as it usually did, with Harry cooking, serving, and cleaning up afterwards before being locked back up in his room with a handful of scraps to eat. But Harry could honestly say he didn't mind the treatment. He had been ignored for the most part, something he actually preferred. Being noticed meant getting attention he would just as soon do without.

Harry was just recapping his ink and rolling up the parchment with his half-finished essay on it when he heard the footsteps outside his door. Dread pooling in his stomach, Harry quickly put his things away and made sure his glasses were somewhere safe- he had learned long ago that glass shards in the face were even less desirable than the blows that caused them in the first place- then turned towards the door as the locks clicked open and Vernon stepped in. Harry nearly whimpered at the malicious smile gracing Vernon's face.

"Welcome home, freak. I've missed our time together."

Harry moved with the first blow, cheek throbbing as he hit the ground. Curling into a protective ball, Harry prayed that Vernon would get bored soon, and that serving as a punching bag was all that would be required of him. Neither prayer was answered.

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It was two weeks later that Harry got the letter. He was outback tending the garden when an owl landed on the fence next to him, a letter in its beak. Curious about who was writing him, as he didn't recognize the owl, Harry stood, the various bruises and wounds on his body protesting the movement, to relieve the owl of its burden. "I'm sorry, but I don't have any owl treats," he said as he took the envelope and caressed the owl's head. It bobbed its head once, then took off. Turning his attention back to the mystery letter, Harry opened it.

_Dear Harry,_

_I'm sorry to tell you that you will be staying with your relatives longer than usual this summer. Voldemort has been getting steadily more active and I cannot risk removing you from your relatives' house and its blood protections until absolutely necessary. I am sorry about this, my boy. I will try to arrange for you to stay with the Weasleys towards the end of the summer, but as of right now I cannot make any guarantees. I will contact you as soon as anything changes._

_Sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

_Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

Harry sank to the ground, feeling numb. _I'm stuck here the whole summer?_ Harry realized he was hyperventilating and forced his breathing back under control, taking slow, deep breaths. _Calm down. It'll be okay. You've survived before, and you'll survive again_. He firmly ignored the voice in the back of his head that was fair gibbering in terror. Knowing it would be better to just get it over with, Harry went inside to tell Petunia the news.

Needless to say, she was less than happy, but she knew as well as he did that there was nothing that could be done about it.

"Fine, but I'll not have you disturbing my Dudders. You can continue to come out to do your chores and cook, but I don't want to see you out of your room otherwise," she snapped, scowling.

Harry nodded, never taking his eyes off the ground.

"Well? Get back to your work. I'll not have you lazing about, taking advantage of our generosity." Harry felt her glare on his back until he was outside and working on the garden again. Petunia's reaction was about what he had expected, and he wasn't upset by it. It was Vernon's reaction that he was dreading. As if to remind him why, the lash marks on his back flared in pain as he once again leaned over the plants. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Harry kept working.

Petunia waited until dinner was finished to tell Vernon that Harry was going to be staying the whole summer.

"He's what?!" Vernon bellowed, then stormed into the kitchen. "Boy, how dare those freaks of yours just assume we'll be happy to have you here longer than necessary! Look at me when I'm talking to you!"

Harry hadn't put the dish he was rinsing down to turn in time, and Vernon grabbed his shoulder and yanked him around sharply. The worst possible thing that could have happened did- Harry didn't drop the dish he was working on in the sink soon enough, and when Vernon hauled him around the dish went flying and shattered upon hitting the floor. Harry felt all the blood drain from his face as his eyes widened and he began to shake. Vernon turned purple.

"Clean that up, finish the dishes, then get up to your room. I'll deal with you later," Vernon whispered.

Harry swallowed hard and nodded shakily. Vernon glared, then stalked into the living room. By the time Harry finished in the kitchen and got to his room, the shaking still hadn't stopped.

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The door opening and closing softly had Harry shooting off of his bed before the light turned on. Vernon moved fast enough that Harry didn't have time to prepare himself before the blow caught him in the stomach, making him double over. The next one caught him in the head and he hit the ground. The blows seemed to go on forever, with Vernon taking sadistic pleasure in hitting his back, making the lash marks from his last "lesson" for the freak open back up. Harry couldn't help the tears of pain that started leaking from his eyes when Vernon got tired of kicks and punches and ripped Harry's shirt from his back, sliding his belt off to start whipping Harry's back, the metal corners of the buckle tearing into his skin. This particular belt was Vernon's favorite precisely because of how much damage those corners could do.

Harry's whole body was one big ache by the time Vernon paused for breath, but he had yet to make a sound. He had learned early on that Vernon didn't like a lot of noise- the neighbors might hear and start asking questions Vernon didn't want to answer. But he couldn't help the whimper that sounded low in his throat when he heard the zip on Vernon's pants go down. More than anything else Vernon did, Harry hated this the most- but knew there was nothing he could do except endure. He was confused though, when Vernon didn't haul him to his knees but pushed him facedown onto the mattress, wrenching his arms around and pinning his wrists in the small of his back, making the open wounds scream in agony. His intentions became clear, however, when Vernon yanked Dudley's too big pants and trousers off. Harry started to struggle, knowing what was coming and desperate to stop it. Vernon cuffed him on the back of his head, stunning him so that he didn't struggle as Vernon yanked his legs open. The blunt probing at his entrance brought him back to himself and he started struggling again, just as the searing burn started. Harry couldn't help it this time. Burying his face in the sheets under him, Harry screamed.

It took seemingly forever for the horrible pounding to end in Vernon groaning and collapsing on Harry's back, nearly crushing him. He lumbered to his feet before Harry could suffocate, and Harry prayed to god it was done.

Vernon hauled him around, glaring into his eyes. "Breathe one word of this to anyone, freak, and I'll hurt you like you've never been hurt before. Do you understand me?" Somehow Harry forced himself to nod. "Good." With that, Vernon turned and left.

Harry took a few minutes to collect himself- Vernon had never beaten him this badly before- then hauled himself to his feet to get something, anything, to cover himself. He had just finished pulling on his pants and was searching for a shirt that wasn't shredded and covered in blood when everything caught up with him. A sharp wave of vertigo as his vision exploded with stars, then everything mercifully went black.

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Passing the freak's door the next morning, Petunia undid all the locks on it and pounded on the door to wake him up.

"Boy! Get up! Dudley will be wanting breakfast soon!"

Knowing the worthless freak would be up shortly, Petunia made her way to the kitchen for her morning tea. It took a while before she noticed that the boy hadn't shown up yet, and she frowned in annoyance. Moving to the bottom of the stairs, Petunia yelled, "Boy! I said get up! Get your lazy hide down here this instant!" Waiting a few more minutes for a response and not getting one, Petunia made her way back upstairs to the freak's bedroom and pounded on the door again.

"Are you deaf boy? I said get up! This instant!"

When all she got was more silence, Petunia scowled and grabbed the handle, then yanked the door open. She got two steps into the room before stumbling to a halt with a gasp, one hand flying to her mouth.

"Boy?" Her voice was no more than a strangled whisper as she stared at the sight in front of her. Harry was lying on his side in a heap on the floor, his face and torso a mass of bruises and welts, with a pool of dried blood under him.

"Harry?" she tried one last time before rushing to his side, uncaring when her knees landed on the dried blood. Then she got a look at his back and understood where all the blood had come from. Feeling lightheaded and nauseous, Petunia gently laid a hand on his shoulder and shook him slightly.

"Harry?" She didn't know quite what to think of the rush of relief and joy she felt when the boy in front of her whimpered and stirred.

"Come on Harry. That's right, wake up for me now," she coaxed, keeping up the gentle shaking.

"Wha…" Green eyes slowly blinked open and stared at her in grogginess and confusion. "Aun' Petu'ia?"

"Shh, Harry, just lie still. I'll be right back, okay? I want you to just stay here. Can you do that for me?"

Petunia smiled when Harry nodded slightly, then stood and rushed for the first aid kit. She was almost back to Harry's room when she ran into Dudley.

"Go downstairs, Dudley. If you want me to make your breakfast for you I will but it will be a while or you can make your own breakfast, but Harry won't be able to today. I'm sorry sweetums. Now off with you, and I'll see you in a bit."

Dudley looked at her in confusion. "Where's the freak? I don't wanna make my own breakfast. And who's the first aid kit for?"

"I don't have time for this Dudley. Go downstairs and make your own breakfast or you can wait for me, but do as I say. Now."

Not accustomed to his mother being so forceful with him, Dudley nodded dumbly and moved past her. He got two steps down the stairwell when his brain caught up with him. _What the heck is going on?_ And, completely disregarding his mother's orders, Dudley turned right back around and followed his mother into his cousin's room. He was shocked at what he saw. His mother was kneeling at his cousin's side, gently helping him to sit up. And his cousin… Dudley was suddenly grateful that he hadn't eaten yet as his stomach threatened to empty what little there was in it. Being in wrestling, he knew what severe bruising looked like, but the shape his cousin was in…

"Mum?" he asked shakily, "What happened?"

Petunia whipped her head around to look over her shoulder at her son as she helped Harry into a kneeling position. "I thought I said to get downstairs Dudley. Go."

Hearing his mother snap at him for the first time in his life was almost enough to make him do as she said. But he didn't move. He was about to ask again when his cousin whimpered and doubled over.

Petunia grabbed his shoulders, but removed her hands just as quickly when Harry flinched away and whimpered again.

"Harry, what's wrong? Can you tell me?"

"Hurts."

Petunia looked back at her son. "Go get a glass of water and the extra strength aspirin." Dudley didn't need to be told twice.

When he got back to his cousin's room Harry was again sitting up, though he was leaning heavily into the hands Petunia had on his shoulders.

"Here you go, Mum." Petunia took the glass and bottle of pain-killers with a grateful smile and turned back to Harry.

"Here Harry, this will help with the pain. Can you swallow these for me?" Petunia had to help him hold the glass to his lips because his hands were shaking so bad, but Harry managed to swallow the pills. Petunia was about to suggest he lay down on the bed when she saw the bloodstains. _Okay, not there._ "Harry, do you think you can stand?"

When Harry gave a shaky nod, Petunia turned to her son. "Come here and help me support him."

Dudley rushed to obey her, dropping to his knees on the other side of his cousin, then as gently as he could he moved Harry's arm up and over his shoulders. He was about to wrap his other arm around Harry's waist when he finally saw his back. Barely suppressing the urge to gag, Dudley carefully searched for a spot that wasn't a bloody mess. He finally found a place low on his cousin's hips. On the count of three, they helped Harry to stand, then slowly walked him into Dudley's room and laid him down on the bed. Petunia tried to move him onto his stomach but Harry's frantically shaking head and whimpered "No, please no. Don't make me," stopped her.

"It's okay Harry, it's alright," she shushed him. "It's okay, you don't have to lay on your stomach. Stay on your side, I just don't want you to lay on your back, okay?" Harry gave a weak nod and Petunia smiled, then turned to her son. "Go make some toast, just one or two pieces, and bring it back up here."

Dudley nodded and left and Petunia turned to the first aid kit she'd brought with them. Pulling out the bruise salve Petunia looked at the amount they had and knew it wasn't going to be enough. _Oh well, Dudley can just go get some more._ She turned to Harry.

"Harry, I've got some ointment for bruises that I'd like to put on yours, okay?" Harry nodded and pushed himself into a sitting position and Petunia got started, beginning with his arms and working inwards. She didn't get very far, but by the time she ran out of salve Dudley was back with the toast.

"Thank you Dudders. Honey, you know where I keep my purse. Get some money and go to the store. We need more bruise ointment. Get a lot."

Dudley nodded and was gone. Petunia turned back to Harry.

"Here's some toast. I know you're probably not hungry, but you need to get some food into your stomach, so at least try, okay?"

Harry nodded and took the toast. "Thank you." His voice was scratchy, and the whisper was barely loud enough for Petunia to hear, but hear it she did and she smiled at her nephew.

"Your welcome. Harry, how did this happen?"

Harry's frightened eyes snapped up to look into hers and he shook his head.

"Harry, it's alright. You can tell me. You won't get in trouble. I'm pretty sure I know what happened, but I need to hear it from you. What happened? Did Vernon do this?"

Harry's head had been shaking the entire time she was talking, but he froze at her last question.

"It was Vernon, wasn't it? Why did he do this Harry?" She paused at a horrible thought. "You were doing magic weren't you? That's why Vernon did this. You attacked him with magic!"

Harry shook his head frantically. "I wasn't doing magic, Aunt, I promise! I can't do magic during the summer or I'll get kicked out, remember?"

She stared hard at Harry before finally deciding that he wasn't lying. That's when she noticed how bad he was trembling and began to sooth him again. "Shh, it's okay. I believe you. You weren't using magic. It's alright if you don't want to tell me, I'll just ask Vernon why he did this when he gets home. You don't have to tell me."

Petunia had meant it to be calming and so was surprised when Harry went rigid at her saying she would ask Vernon what happened.

He dropped the toast and grabbed her forearm in both hands, his grip vice-like. "Please, you can't tell him you know. He'll be so angry. Please, _please_, don't tell him."

Petunia frowned. "Harry, I have to talk to him. I need to know why he did this."

Harry shook his head again. He was starting to verge on hysteria.

"Please, you can't talk to him! He'll kill me if he finds out you know. Please, I'm begging you, don't talk to him!"

Petunia placed her free hand on his. "Okay Harry, it's alright. I won't talk to him. Calm down now." Keeping her voice and movements as gentle as she could, Petunia took one of his hands from her arm and gestured towards the other piece of toast. "Why don't you try eating? If you turn around I can start bandaging your back."

Harry had been reaching for the other piece of toast, but froze and looked up at her again.

"You can't. He'll know you know if he sees bandages and he'll be mad at you for helping me. I don't want him to be mad at you."

Petunia pursed her lips. "Now Harry, I'm sure you're over-reacting. Your back needs to be cleaned up and bandaged, so just relax and eat your toast while I take care of it."

Harry shook his head. "No!" It was said with enough force that Petunia pulled back, startled. Harry softened his voice, but his expression remained fierce. "You can't bandage it. He can't know that you know, or that you helped me. I'll let you put the bruise stuff on me and clean up my back, but no bandages."

Petunia faltered under the hard stare, then gave in. "Alright, Harry, no bandages. But you will be resting the rest of the day. Is that understood?"

Harry shook his head with a small smile. "Can't. He'll know if the chores don't get done. I'll take it easy if you insist, but I have to do them."

"Harry-"

"No, Aunt Petunia. I appreciate the offer, but I have to do some chores; it'll only be worse if I don't. Trust me."

Petunia hesitated for a long moment then nodded.

"Thank you."

"Harry, how long has this been going on?"

Harry froze in the act of raising the toast to his mouth and took on a hunted look.

"I won't talk to Vernon about it if you really don't want me to, but I need to know how long this has been going on."

Harry just shook his head.

"Harry, I need to know. How long has this been going on?"

Harry stared at her for a long moment before caving. "Just this summer."

"Why don't I believe you?"

It took everything Harry had in him to maintain an open, honest expression. "I'm not lying Aunt Petunia. It really has been just this summer."

"Then why do I remember him smacking you around from even before you went to…your school?"

Harry shrugged. "Sure he's always knocked me around a bit, but that's no big deal. This summer's the first time he's ever really hit me. It's really not that big a deal you know." _And now to change the subject_, he thought to himself. "I appreciate all you're doing, but you don't have to if you don't want to. I can go get breakfast started. I'm feeling a lot better now." He put the toast down and moved to stand up, but Petunia caught his uninjured shoulder and pushed him back down.

"Nonsense, Harry. You're in no condition to do anything, and I'll not have it be said that I forced someone as injured as you to work when they clearly needed to rest. Now eat your toast and turn around so I can clean up your back."

Harry stared at her, an uncertain expression on his face. Finally Petunia just picked up the toast and handed it to him with a smile.

"Turn around, Harry. I'll clean your back while we wait on Dudley to get back."

It took a moment, but Harry eventually nodded and turned around.

Once Harry couldn't see her, Petunia let herself wince at the carnage his back had become. Taking a fortifying breath she grabbed the disinfectant and got started, being as gentle as she could, all the while trying to figure out a way to get the boy to agree to spend the day resting. She may not like him, but she would be damned if she would let it be said that she had forced him to work when he was in this condition. _Although_, she mused to herself, _if he really does want to work today, I won't mind not having to do everything myself. Well, we'll see what happens._ Shaking her head slightly, Petunia brought her attention back to the task at hand.

It was going to be a long day.

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Well, that's it for now. Let me know what you think. Also, I do not know when I'll get the next chapter out. It could be within a week, it could be a month. It depends on my schedule. Here's hoping. ;)


	2. Bonding

All day long, Petunia had watched Harry. She didn't know if he noticed it or not, but she didn't really care. It had been… enlightening.

She'd had nothing for the pain except aspirin and she hadn't wanted to accidentally over-dose him as that would mean the hospital and the hospital meant questions she wasn't prepared to answer, so she hadn't given him much more than what the directions said to take. Though it had likely been better than nothing, she held no illusions as to how much pain he had still been in- it was written in the lines etched into his face, how he held himself, and, most tellingly of all, how he moved. He moved as her mother had towards the end of her life, when every move had the pain from arthritis shooting through every nerve. Every time he reached for something, stood up, walked, even shifted his head to look at something, there was a slow deliberateness and hesitancy that spoke of immense pain. But he hadn't said a word. Never once asked for a break, never asked for help to do something, never asked to have less chores for the day, he hadn't even asked for the painkillers; she'd had to be the one to remember that he needed to take them.

She still didn't quite know what to make of realizing that he wasn't willing to bother her with his problem, his need, especially since she knew full well where he had developed this reticence. It was humbling in a way. It also firmed her resolve.

She didn't care for him, still hated his freakish magic, and felt no urge to protect him for his sake. But she wasn't willing to allow someone to go through that much pain under her roof. She was perfectly happy to ignore his existence with the exception of making sure he worked to earn his keep, but it just wasn't in her to allow anyone to suffer the way he was suffering. So she would talk to Vernon. She wasn't stupid enough to tell him to stop- after all, Vernon had always cuffed the boy on occasion, and she knew the boy had deserved those- but she would ask him to back off. And, Vernon being the sensible, loving husband he was, she knew he would listen. Yes she had told Harry she wouldn't talk to Vernon, but it was obvious he was being unreasonable in his fear so she felt no qualms about doing it anyways.

Mind made up, Petunia waited for Vernon to get home.

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Harry was cooking dinner when he heard the door open and shut. He suppressed a shudder and swallowed hard. Vernon was home. Here's hoping tonight was one of those rare nights when Harry went unnoticed. After nights like last night, he usually did, but tonight there was a wild card added into the mix. Aunt Petunia now knew, and Harry had the feeling that she wasn't going to stay silent like he had asked.

He had felt her watching him all day. He didn't know what she was thinking, and so he tried to play things as normal as possible. He hadn't even asked for painkillers, though every inch of him throbbed in a low level agony. He had been beyond shocked when Petunia had come up to him with the next round of painkillers the moment the time limit on the ones he'd already taken was up. Shaking off his thoughts, Harry offered up a prayer that Petunia would keep her promise, and focused his attention back on cooking.

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Petunia waited until dinner was finished and Harry was back up in his room before drawing Vernon into the kitchen so they could talk without Dudley listening in. Vernon was looking at her, patiently waiting for her to speak, so she took a deep breath and started.

"I found Harry this morning; he didn't wake up in time to cook Dudley's breakfast. I had to go up to his room to wake him up. He was unconscious on the floor."

Vernon's face was starting to turn red. She steadied her nerves and kept talking. Or she would have if Vernon hadn't interrupted.

"The stupid freak didn't wake up in time to cook Dudley's breakfast? That lazy pest! I'll teach him to shirk his duties!"

"Vernon!" Petunia was shocked. "Didn't you hear me? He was still unconscious from how badly you beat him last night! No one would have woken up in time to cook Dudley's breakfast after that! You can't do that again. I understand that sometimes he deserves a hard cuff to the head for being especially bad, but no one deserves what you did to him last night. I want you to stop."

Vernon gave her his best patient look. "Pet, he's a freak. He's got that freak magic of his, and if we don't come down on him hard for it, what's to stop him from going after one of us or, worse, Dudley? He deserves it."

"No, he doesn't, Vernon. He didn't even do any magic yesterday. Now stop."

Petunia watched her husband turn from pink to purple in a flash as he barreled up to her, a wild light in his eye. "THIS IS MY HOUSE! I WILL DO WHATEVER I SEE FIT IN IT! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!!"

For the first time since she had met him, Petunia looked into her husband's eyes and felt fear. Swallowing hard, she nodded, then watched as Vernon stormed out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Releasing a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding Petunia walked to a chair on legs that barely held her weight and sank into it.

She hadn't listened. Harry had begged her not to say anything and she hadn't listened. Now, whatever condition she found him in come morning was going to be her fault. Shaking with a combination of fear, regret, and guilt, Petunia tried to get a handle on herself so she could go back in to sit with Dudley and wait until Vernon went to bed to go to sleep herself.

She had felt many emotions for her nephew over the years, but only yesterday had she first felt pity. Now she could add two more to the list: regret, and the beginnings of empathy. Getting up from the chair and making her way from the kitchen to the living room, Petunia waited in dread for the morning and what it would bring.

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Petunia knocked softly on Harry's door before opening it, bracing herself for what she would see. She was sick at what she found. Harry was tied facedown to his bed, naked, his back and legs were shredded, and there was blood everywhere.

"Oh, God, Harry." Moaning, Petunia rushed to his side. "Harry? Harry, come on sweetheart, wake up for me now. Please, Harry, wake up." When she got no response, Petunia reached out and laid a hand as gently as she could on the least bruised part of his arm that she could find and shook him softly. "Harry? Can you wake up for me now? Come on Harry, wake up, please." A thrill of relief and joy ran through her as Harry stirred. "That's a good boy. Wake up." She couldn't help her smile as her nephew blinked open groggy green eyes. Relieved he was waking up, Petunia reached out to smooth a lock of hair out of his eyes, but was shocked when Harry flinched away from her with a whimper, yanking hard on his bindings.

"Oh, Harry, shh. It's okay, I won't hurt you. Vernon's gone, you're safe now. Shh, it's okay. You're safe." Petunia kept her voice as soft as she could as Harry slowly relaxed and more awareness filtered into his eyes.

"Aun' Petunia?" his voice was scratchy. "Wha…?"

"It's okay, Harry. Vernon's gone now, you're safe. I'm going to untie you, alright? Don't worry, you'll be okay." Keeping a sharp eye on her nephew for another negative reaction, Petunia reached for the rope binding his hands. Once she had his arms free, Petunia move to release his legs. As soon as both were free, Harry curled into a fetal position, moaning at the fire that sparked along his nerves. Harry's curling up and tortured moan were the last straw in Petunia's mind. Uncomfortable questions be damned, her nephew needed a hospital.

"Just stay here, Harry. I'm calling an ambulance, you need a doctor." Petunia was moving to stand when Harry's hand shot out and grabbed her wrist in an ironclad grip, halting her movement.

"No. You can't. No one can know."

Surprised at the sudden alertness in his voice, Petunia met his clear green gaze.

"Harry, we don't have a choice. You need medical attention."

"No, Aunt Petunia. My magic's already taken care of the worst of the damage, and it'll continue to heal me throughout the day. But you can't tell anyone about this. If you tell the authorities, they'll take me away, and I can't leave."

"Why on earth not?"

Harry smiled wryly through the pain. "Other than the fact that I'm a wizard? The blood protections, Aunt Petunia. It's why Professor Dumbledore hasn't let me go live with the Weasley's. The blood protection from my mother is keyed to you, which is why I have to come back each summer. I can't leave. If anyone finds out, they'll make me, and that can't be allowed to happen. I appreciate the concern, but I'll be alright."

"You're not alright," Petunia snapped. Then she sighed, "But I see your point. Fine, I won't call the hospital. But there's no way you're doing chores today." Petunia cut Harry off as he moved to protest. "Dudley and I can take care of the chores for one day. You are to stay in your bed. We'll do what we can for your wounds and then you will go back to sleep. No arguing."

Harry couldn't help his small smile. "Yes, Aunt Petunia."

Giving a small smile of her own, Petunia got to her feet and went to fetch the first aid kit and tell Dudley to get started on the chores.

Surprisingly, Dudley agreed to the chores without fuss. Petunia just shrugged it off, more concerned with helping Harry. What she didn't realize was that Dudley had seen his cousin that morning, and between yesterday and what he had seen and heard today, Dudley had come to a few realizations and a decision.

Dudley had always enjoyed Harry Hunting. Picking on his younger cousin made him feel big and important. But picking on him was one thing. What his father had done was a level all its own and no one deserved that, not even if they were magic. That realization had happened yesterday as he had helped his cousin into his room, then firmed as he spent all day watching Harry force himself through chores he had no business doing. Then last night had happened. Neither of his parents knew it, but Dudley had snuck to the kitchen door to listen in on his parents' conversation and had heard his father go off on his mother.

Unlike Petunia, Dudley realized why his father had exploded. Hurting Harry was a power trip. Sad, but true, and Dudley recognized the signs- after all, he had personal experience to teach him. So Dudley knew why his father exploded at being told to stop; he didn't want to stop feeling the power, the self-importance, that came with being able to hurt someone that couldn't fight back. And while he had felt that it was wrong, Dudley didn't feel brave enough to do anything about it. After all, this was his father. What could he do against him? But then he had seen his cousin this morning. Had seen what his father had done- again- because someone had threatened to take his power trip away.

And that was when Dudley made his decision. He wouldn't actively go against his father. He didn't want his father to turn his anger towards him. But he would do whatever he could to help his cousin survive this. And if that meant doing chores he would normally throw a spectacular fit about, then so be it; he would do the chores.

**qpqpqpqp**

And so it went. On the days when Harry was strong enough, he would gently- but firmly- take over doing the chores from Petunia and Dudley, and on the days when he was too battered to even stand, Petunia would care for him throughout the day as she and Dudley took care of the chores. They fell into the routine easily and took pains to ensure that Vernon stayed oblivious to it all.

Then, three weeks later, everything came to a head. Vernon had had a rotten day at work, had come home to find Harry still cooking dinner, and was in general in a foul mood.

Harry, Petunia, and Dudley had all known the minute the door slammed and Vernon came snarling into the kitchen that Petunia and Dudley would be doing the chores tomorrow. What none of them had expected was the level of sheer sadistic viciousness that Vernon would come to that night.

Petunia and Dudley first realized something was different when Harry started shrieking. One thing they had learned was that, no matter how beaten he was, no matter how shredded his skin, Harry never screamed. Never. When Dudley got the guts up to ask why that was, Harry's response had sickened him.

"Vernon gets bored quicker when I stay silent."

The sympathy and understanding that had been in his cousin's green eyes while Dudley had sat there in horrified silence had been worse than knowing why he stayed quiet.

But it wasn't until Vernon came down, stopped briefly in the kitchen before cheerfully wishing his wife and son a good night, and went to bed that Petunia realized what had happened.

Curious in a morbid way about why her husband had needed to stop in the kitchen- it hadn't been to clean off blood, as his shirt was still stained with it- Petunia got up and went to look. She nearly fainted when she realized what the bloody butcher knives and cheese grater meant. She grabbed the first aid kit and flew back into the living room.

"Dudley! Come with me. If your father comes out of his room, make sure he doesn't go into Harry's room, I'll be in there. Let's go."

Being as quiet as possible, they crept to Dudley's second bedroom. Petunia nearly wept at what she found. Harry was again tied spread-eagle face down on the bed and his back was a bloody, pulpy mess. She got about two feet away from the bed when she finally registered what her eyes were seeing. The blood that had been flowing freely was slowing, stopping. The knife and lash wounds were scabbing over, closing, so that they looked a couple of days old, not minutes.

And that's when she finally understood what Harry had meant when he said that his magic had already fixed the worst of the damage. _How often_, she wondered, _did this happen? How many times have I only seen what he looks like after his magic has already healed most of the damage?_ And in that instant, for the first time in her life, Petunia was grateful magic existed. Grateful there was something that could take care of her nephew when nothing and no one else could.

Knowing that anything she did right now would just get in the way, Petunia turned back to the door.

"Come on, Dudley. We'll give his magic time to finish what needs to be done, then do what we can for him once Vernon's left for the day."

Having seen the same thing his mother had, Dudley just nodded and allowed his mother to herd him from the room. They would wait for tomorrow to take over caring for Harry.


	3. Hi Ho, Hi Ho, off to school we go

A/N- the ideas that I shamelessly borrowed are: Draco as a Healer comes from On The Last Day of Our World, by Sansa (you'll have to go to if you want to read this one. If you don't mind slash, I _strongly_ recommend this fic. It is amazing. Oh, and don't read the first few chapters with your back facing a dark, empty basement at two in the morning. It's rather creepy). I also stole the idea of the cheese-grater and abused students going into Slytherin regardless of actual sorting results from other authors but I have no clue who. If you recognize either of these ideas please tell me the fic and author so I can give proper credit.

The book is Moonshine, the awesome sequel to the amazing Nightlife, by Rob Thurman. If you want a book that has you splitting your sides laughing while sitting on the edge of your seat desperate to find out what happens next- at the same _bloody eff-ing time_!- I strongly, _strongly_ recommend you pick up these books (and the third one, Madhouse).

Okay, enough gushing about the indescribable awe-inspiring goodness that is Rob Thurman. On with the show!

Oh, one last thing. I've decided that Sirius did not die at the end of book five, mostly because I forgot to have Harry do the emo-angsting thing at the beginning of the summer that would have happened if Sirius had died, but also because Sirius is just plain too cool to kill off. Blast you J.K.! You killed one of my two favorite characters!

**Disclaimer-** J.K. Rowling owns everything. I'm just playing on her playground.

**qpqpqpqp**

With a sigh of relief, Harry put Sirius' birthday present into his trunk and shut the lid, slightly surprised that everything had fit in; magically enhanced trunks were useful that way. Dumbledore hadn't allowed him to leave the Dursley's early, but September 1 was tomorrow, marking the beginning of his sixth year at Hogwarts, and with it would come his escape from his uncle. He was somewhat worried that Vernon would turn on Petunia and Dudley, but hoped that his pattern from previous school years would hold, at least until Harry turned seventeen. His seventeenth birthday was the magic number- he would be of legal age in the wizarding world and Dumbledore could no longer tell him where to live…or, more importantly, _who_ he could live with. Dumbledore couldn't tell him that Petunia and Dudley couldn't come live with him because they were muggles and therefore didn't belong in the wizarding world. Something he had been quite adamant about in his replies to Harry's letters. 

Harry had thought about telling him how bad the abuse really was, but every time he went to put quill to parchment he thought about the one time he had tried to tell Dumbledore what his uncle did to him. Dumbledore hadn't believed him; had thought he was just trying to find excuses not to have to go back during the summer, and brushed his desperate plea off as teenage dramatics. Harry still felt bitterness flood him at the memory.

But the summer was over. Petunia and Dudley wouldn't have to risk themselves in an effort to provide a buffer between Harry and Vernon's fists anymore. At least Petunia had been able to give him a small reprieve. She had reminded Vernon that Harry had to go back to school soon three weeks ago and asked him how he thought "those freaks" would respond to seeing Harry black and blue, and made sure Vernon believed her when she said that it wouldn't matter what excuses Harry gave them, they would still be suspicious. She had also made sure to catch Vernon in one of his more generous moods, and he had grudgingly agreed to lay off_. After all, wouldn't due to loose his favorite punching bag_, Harry thought sourly as he went to the bed and laid down, ready to go to sleep now that his packing was done.

But it had worked. Vernon hadn't laid off in beating the crap out of Harry in areas that could be covered, or happily shredding Harry's back with whatever vaguely sharp object was on hand at the time, but he quit breaking bones, had laid off of Harry's arms, and let his perpetually busted lip (or lips, as both had been broken open in multiple places), black eyes, and bruised cheekbones and jaw heal as Vernon finally quit trying to see just how hard he could concuss Harry and still leave him conscious. 

Harry was especially grateful to Petunia for the last one; concussions made him dizzy and sick for hours, if not days, afterwards- not to mention the splitting headaches. When he had found out from Dudley what had happened to cause his sudden reprieve, he'd made sure to make Petunia's lunch that day as special as possible by cooking her favorite meal. He'd also bribed Dudley with the sweets he had left from the school year- and he still didn't quite know what to make of the fact that Dudley had accepted, accepted! Without freaking out! Harry's bribe of obviously wizarding candy. He'd honestly just thought Dudley would be too squeamish about the thought of magical candy to take the bribe, though he knew their relationship had changed enough that he wouldn't rat Harry out- to get Dudley to help him pamper Petunia for the rest of the day. When asked, he'd just said it was the only way he had to say thank you both for talking Vernon into backing off a bit and for doing what she could to help Harry once she found out the extent of the abuse. Her speechless, almost shocked, expression followed by a surprised and slightly embarrassed thank you had left him feeling almost giddy the rest of the day. 

It had also made him realize he didn't have a way to say thank you to Dudley until he remembered that Dudley hadn't freaked out about the candy, and actually seemed to enjoy the forbidden treat. So he'd grabbed hold of his vaunted Gryffindor courage and tracked Dudley down to ask what he thought of the treats. When Dudley had confessed how much he had liked the candies, Harry had offered to get him more, and a wider variety, the first chance he got and have Hedwig sneak the treats to him late enough at night that Vernon would be asleep and so wouldn't find out about his son's dabbling with things made by "those freaks". Dudley had jumped at the chance, giving Harry a way to thank his cousin for the help he'd given him throughout the summer.

But now the summer was over, leaving only one left to go before he would be rid of his uncle forever, and Harry's last thought before drifting off to sleep was a silent thank you to anyone who was listening.

**qpqp**

With a clap of Dumbledore's hands, the many platters filled with food and the Welcoming Feast began. Harry stared at the mass of food in front of him in well-concealed trepidation. He'd had more to eat than usual with Petunia and Dudley helping him to survive this summer, but they couldn't risk Vernon finding out so Harry was still severely underfed. Biting back a resigned sigh, Harry put as little on his plate as he thought he could get away with and grabbed his fork, preparing to start the chore of eating as little as he could while still making it look like he'd eaten a decent meal. He barely held back the yelp of pain when Ron's hand collided with his back.

"Finally! Best part of the night, right mate?" and with that, Ron dug in. Harry just pasted a smile on his face and grit his teeth against the fire in his back. Luckily, Ron and Hermione were both rather preoccupied with each other as they had apparently gotten together over the summer- something that should have happened years ago as far as Harry was concerned- and didn't notice his forced smile, grit teeth, and small meal.

Harry enjoyed the feast- he had missed his friends greatly, and being back at Hogwarts always felt like coming home. So he relaxed and enjoyed himself as the feast wore on, steadily enduring the back slaps, shoulder poundings, and friendly punches sent his way with as steady an expression as he could manage; all the while thanking whoever decided student robes should be black, as he was certain he'd felt a couple of the wounds on his back break open and black would hide any blood that seeped through.

Though he always enjoyed the Welcoming Feast he couldn't help but be grateful when it ended. Now all he had to do was wait for his dorm mates to fall asleep and he could sneak away to the prefects bathroom (it worked so much better than the one he shared with the rest of the Gryffindor males, not to mention he didn't have to worry about someone waking up and walking in on him) for his annual first-night-back routine of giving his back what little medical attention he could. So it was with a sense of relief that he got up and made his way to Gryffindor Tower at the close of the night.

He never did notice the narrow eyed, suspicious glances Hermione sent his way.

**qpqp**

_Why do we have to do this again?_ Sighing, Draco raked a hand through his hair and glowered at the hallway stretching out before him. _Hallway duty. Like Filtch isn't enough to keep people from going out after curfew? This is ridiculous._

Knowing no one was going to be in there, but that he still had to check, Draco opened the door to the Prefect's bathroom and paused.

"Bloody, fucking- _shit_, that hurt!"

Feeling a grin spread over his face at the sound of the soon-to-be-busted student's yelp, Draco stepped into the bathroom, happy to have someone to take his annoyance out on, and stopped dead.

"Potter! What the _hell_?"

**qpqp**

"Potter! What the _hell_?"

Harry spun around, nearly tipping over his own feet, causing his back to scream in protest at the sudden movement, and felt all the blood drain from his face.

"Malfoy, what the hell are you doing here?"

Draco crossed his arms and glared. "Prefect, Potter; we have hall detail now, remember? Now, what the hell happened to your back? Or your chest, for that matter."

"None of your damn business, so leave."

"Need I remind you that you are the one out past curfew and in the Prefect's Bathroom though you are not a Prefect? I don't have to go anywhere. Now what happened to your back?"

"I'm not leaving and I already told you: it's none of your damn business. So get out."

The two stood there glaring at each other for a long moment before Draco shook his head and sighed.

"I must be out of my mind." Pulling his wand, Draco conjured a stool next to Harry and motioned him towards it. "Sit down Potter so I can see what I'm dealing with."

Harry didn't move.

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

Draco grit his teeth and kept his temper in check. "Potter, your back needs professional care. Even if you did know how to provide said care," a disdainful snort said what Draco thought of that idea, "most of those injuries are in places you can't reach. So sit down, shut up, and let me take a look at your back."

"Professional care?" Harry sneered, "What makes you think you're qualified to give it?"

"Potter, the only reasons I'm not a fully certified Healer right now are that I'm too young to take the certification exams and my father would kill me if I tried. Now, I'll say it again. Sit down, shut up and let me take a look at your back."

"Why the hell should I trust you?" Harry shot back, "You hate my guts."

_Stay calm, don't bite his head off. Stay calm, don't bite his head off…_"I'm a Healer, Potter. It doesn't matter how much I like or dislike you, you're back needs to be healed and I'm qualified to do it. 

"Now, the way I see it, you have two choices. One, you can continue to refuse, in which case I take house points for being out past curfew, further points for being in the Prefect's bathroom, give you a detention with Professor Snape, and then go visit Madam Pomfrey to tell her how badly injured your back is and that she should make sure to use a medical scan that won't be fooled by the glamour I'm willing to bet you're hiding under. Or, you can sit down, shut up, and let me take care of your back, in which case I will not take points, assign a detention, or tell anyone, let alone Madam Pomfrey, what I've seen. This is your last chance, Potter. Which is it going to be?"

Seeing the war Harry was waging with himself in the black haired boy's eyes, Draco waited patiently. After what felt like an eternity, Harry's shoulders slumped in defeat. Closing his eyes, Harry gave a single jerky nod, then slid stiffly onto the stool and turned his back to Draco.

"Thank you," Draco said quietly, moving to where Harry was seated. When he got close enough to see the injuries clearly, the blond couldn't help but wince at the ruin that was Harry's back.

"I'm going to cast a pain numbing spell, then do a medical scan to see just what I'm dealing with. You shouldn't feel anything, but let me know if you do." With that, Draco got to work.

He had gotten to the middle of Harry's back when he came to a particularly viscous looking wound. "Merlin, what did the bastard use, a cheese grater?"

He didn't realize he had spoken aloud until he heard Harry's barely audible "Yes."

Floundering for a moment as to how to respond to such a statement, Draco finally replied in the only way that seemed appropriate. "I'm sorry."

Harry's only response was a slight shrug.

It was a while before Draco reached the last wound. He finished bandaging it, cast a final spell, then stood back.

"Okay, Potter. I've bandaged all the cuts and put a shielding spell on the bandages so nothing can cause further damage, but do try to be careful. I'm going to let your back heal at a natural pace; I could speed things up so you heal in just a few days, but you would be unconscious for a week and I somehow doubt you want to try explaining that. Though your chest has some nasty bruising, there's nothing that specifically requires healing, so I'll just provide you with a salve to help heal the bruises. The pain-killing spell I used should last for another four hours. There's an alcove just outside the Great Hall that's blocked with a suit of armor. Meet me there at six tomorrow morning, I'll have some potions I want you to take. There will be a few, so bring something to carry them in. Any questions?"

Harry just shook his head, not turning around to meet Draco's gaze.

"Then I will see you in the morning." With that, Draco turned to leave. He was almost to the door when Harry spoke.

"Malfoy… thanks."

Draco turned. "Don't mention it Potter. Ever. You do and I will make sure that everyone knows how you found out. Understood?"

At Harry's nod, Draco turned again to leave.

Harry was gingerly putting his shirt back on when Draco reached the doorway and paused, calling back over his shoulder, "And Potter? You're welcome," and left.

**qpqp**

Draco reached out and knocked on the door to Severus Snape's quarters. He only had to wait a minute before the door was opened and he looked into his Godfather's startled face.

"Draco. What can I do for you?" He stepped back to let the blonde into his rooms.

"I need some more healing potions. Have you sent what was left to Madam Pomfrey yet?"

Severus shook his head no. "I thought we already got everyone who needed healing?"

Moving to the cabinet where Snape stored the healing potions for the beginning of each year, Draco shook his head. "I found another one."

"I thought we identified everyone. Who did we miss?"

"They're not in Slytherin, Severus."

Severus' eyes widened. "Not in- but how? You know the rule."

Reaching the cabinet, Draco opened the doors and looked for the potions he needed. "Well, something went wrong. My best guess is that the abuse didn't start until after first year."

"Ah. I don't suppose you can tell me the student's name?" When Draco just shook his head, Severus sighed and resigned himself to not knowing- for now- and sat back to watch his godson work.

He understood when Draco reached for the lowest potency healing potion they had, raised an eyebrow when he reached for the salve meant for the highest level bruises, was startled when the blonde grabbed three of the strongest pain-killing potions in the lot. But when Draco also reached for the starvation level nutrient potions, Severus couldn't help himself.

"Draco-"

"Don't, Severus. I had to promise absolute secrecy to get them to even let me stay in the room, let alone heal them. I will work on them, but I honestly don't know how much good it will do. And the situation is sticky enough that we can't just force them to leave for a new guardian. Much as I would like to"

"You are absolutely certain?"

Draco just looked at him.

Severus closed his eyes briefly. "Alright. But work on them. Hard."

Draco gave him a sad half smile, then left.

_May the Gods protect you, whoever you are._

**qpqp**

Glancing around to make sure no one would see him, Harry slipped into the alcove Draco had described at 6:05.

"You're late, Potter," Draco snapped.

"I got stuck waiting for a group of early risers to move on. Sorry." Harry's tone indicated he was anything but.

"It's morning on a class day. There is nothing wrong with being seen outside your dorm right now."

Harry pointed to himself. "Chronically late to breakfast. How am I supposed to explain the sudden break in routine?"

Draco tilted his head in acknowledgement and reached into his bag, pulling out three vials. "These are pain numbing potions. They last six hours, so take one now, one again at lunch, and the last at dinner. I want to check on your back daily, so meet me in the Prefect's bathroom again tonight at midnight, and I'll give you the next batch."

Draco decided not to comment on how quickly Harry downed the first potion and reached into his bag again. "You're severely malnourished so I want you to take a nutritional supplement potion after each meal. Do _not_ take them on an empty stomach or you'll just throw them back up." Draco handed these vials to Harry as well, then reached back into his bag again, coming out with a last vial and a medium sized jar.

"This is a mild healing potion. Take half of it before breakfast and the other half before dinner. The jar is a salve for bruises. Apply it once when you get up and once before you go to bed. Do try to remember to do so _after_ you shower. Any questions?"

Draco ignored Harry's glare and waited for him to nod before slinging his pack over his shoulder. "Then I will see you tonight at midnight. This time try to be on time."

With that Draco slipped out of the alcove, leaving Harry to stow the vials in the bag he brought and head back to his dorms.

_Draco Malfoy has turned into my Healer. _This_ is going to be interesting._

**qpqp**

Sighing in contentment, Hermione snuggled deeper into the overstuffed couch and propped her book in her lap, the warmth of the fire caressing her skin and the silence of the empty common room, as everyone else had already gone up to sleep, embraced her with a comforting peace. Grinning in anticipation of finding out if Niko and Cal were going to get out of Abbagor's lair in one piece- or at the very least alive- as she knew there was no way Abbagor wouldn't start a fight, she opened the book and flipped through the pages until she got to her bookmark.

_I don't care _what_ Harry and Ron say. Reading is one pleasure I plan on never giving up!_ Expression settling into a contented smile, Hermione started reading.

"_That's a different look for you, Abby." My finger was taut on the shotgun's trigger. "New hairdresser?"_

_For once Niko didn't bury a pointed elbow in my ribs…_

Hermione didn't know how much time had passed before a noise jerked her away from yet another raunchy comment by Robin. Looking up, she scanned the common room for whoever had made the noise. Confused at first by the lack of a person even though she heard soft footfalls, Hermione's brain finally dragged itself fully out of the book and caught up with the moment as the entrance portrait swung open then closed, and she realized who it must be.

_What's Harry doing sneaking out this late on the first night back? There's no way he's found something that requires sneaking out at midnight this early in the year. Or…does this have to do with what was wrong with him at dinner?_

Feeling slightly guilty at digging where she hadn't been invited, Hermione checked her watch so she could time how long Harry was gone and went back to her book, all the while ignoring the voice in the back of her head telling her that she knew full well what he was going to do and why he had waited until everyone was asleep to do it. Telling herself firmly that she wasn't going to jump to conclusions about Harry's home life without more proof, Hermione slowly pulled her attention back to her book.

**qpqpqpqp**

Well, that's it for now. Lemme know what you think. Please? Pretty please with sugar on top?


End file.
